soad5590 (soad5590) wrote in saltoftheroads,
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     Ami leaned close to the mirror and wiped away the eyeliner that had crept down her cheeks when she was crying.  She didn't cry because she was sad or because she was scared; Ami cried because she thought.  She thought of everything that has been and everything that will be.  She thought about the pain and suffering of the world, and that which she had brought on it herself.  And then her cell phone rang.
     "Hello?"
     "Hey sweetie, what's up?  I wanted you to come with Brian and me to the fair today.  I-"
     "What do you want, Mike?  Make it quick, I believe I've told you before not to call me."
     "I just wanted to tell you that I missed you and that I love you."
     "Well that's nice," Ami retorted, steadily gaining more confidence, "but it's not getting you anywhere.  Call me when you've pulled your life outta the garbage."  Ami pressed her thumb firmly down on the red phone, not letting go until the monotonous beep blended in with the rest of the sound pounding into her head.  When she finally slumped down on her bed, she caught a glimpse of her notebook peaking out from the zipper of her backpack.  She stared for a moment, then quickly lunged forward, grabbing the notebook in one graceful swoop and ran out of her bedroom, downstairs.
     As she sat, trying to think of a good last line for the main character of her sci-fi horror story, the computer chimed.
"BlackXHoleXNoose: Hey there Ami.  wut u up to???
VAC: Tryin' to think of a last line for my character in my story, you???
BlackXHoleXNoose: how duz ur story end?
VAC: Shelley (the main character) finds her way out of the dimension the killer is in and creates a black hole and collapses it.
BlackXHoleXNoose: whoa, that's cool
VAC: I'm glad somebody thinks so...
BlackXHoleXNoose: wut do u mean?
VAC: I mean last time I read part of it to my creative writing class they said it was stupid.  They said it's too "unrealistic".
BlackXHoleXNoose: uhhhh...hello???  creative writing...
VAC: Well try tellin' them that.
BlackXHoleXNoose: i've got it!!! how about u have her say 'it is done' at the end
VAC: Nah, that's overdone.  Thanks anyway, but hey, I gotta go.  I'll talk to you later.
BlackXHoleXNoose: k, bye"
Ami focused again on her story.  After staring at the page for a couple of minutes, Ami's mouth dropped open.
     "Perfect.  I've got it, an ending no one will expect."  As she said this her pen dashed across the page.
     Walking to school the next day, the cold morning air bit Ami's lips as they split open, pulled tightly to reveal her smile.  She tried hard to keep a straight fave, but she kept imagining her creative writing class, period two, room 1337.
     "Hey Ami.  Why do you look so happy?"  Rebecca jogged forward to reach her that much quicker, looking perfect with her shoulder-length black hair bouncing in perfect time with her steps.  Ami's face suddenly went flat.  Rebecca stopped short, pouting her gorgeous pink lips.
     "Well don't be so happy to see me," Rebecca said.
     "Sorry," Ami murmured.  "I just thought of something."  A slightly labored smile cut her face again as they proceeded into the school.
     "Ami!!!" Mr. Curtin said, chuckling lightly as he did.  "Do you have any more tales of black holes and space chickens you'd like to share?"
     "No, no space chickens," Ami said glaring at him, malice clearly displayed in her eyes.  "But yes, I do have a story, the ending to my story."
     "Then by all means," Mr. Curtin mockingly waved his hands.  Ami stood up and read.
     "And as Shelley floated away from the black hole, she thought."  A classmate threw a wadded up piece of paper, Ami continued: "She considered what she had just destroyed; the murderer, of course.  But along with him, she swallowed up an entire dimension, which undoubtedly held millions of universes with an infinite number of beings.  And why?  To saver herself, one being?  Infinitely important but essentially meaningless in comparison to the billions of souls she's just robbed.  And, realizing this she was overwhelmed, and it was not her, but her remorse and need for atonement that flung her into the black hole.  And, before the breath was sucked from her body she whispered: 'Forgive me'."  The class was in a hush.  Ami sat down, not bothering to look at her classmates around her, knowing all too well what would come next.
     "That's is?" One boy shouted from the right side of the classroom.  "What's the point of the story?  She runs from a psycho through a couple dimensions for a hundred pages then kills herself?  What's the point of running if she's going to die anyway?"
     "The point was," Ami muttered through gritted teeth.  "The point was that she didn't want to die, and she had no plan to.  But she, unlike the rest of humanity, had remorse and knew no other way to atone."
     "So what?  Is this your way of bashing society?"
     "No, this is my way of informing you."
     "Informing us of what, Ami?  That we should be nicer otherwise a black hole will suck us up?  I must agree with Derrek, the moral is a little abstract."
     "No, this is my way of informing you that you are going to die."  Ami chuckled.  "You were just given your last chance for reformation and you denied it."  And as Ami reached into her backpack and stood up, the class gasped.  In her hands were two hand guns, and as the backpack fell over, dozens of rounds of ammunition spilled out.  Before anyone could reach the back of the room - where she had decided to sit that day - half a dozen bullets were propelled out of the gun, hitting four classmates.
     "Get on the floor!"  Ami screamed.  All the students kneeled down, the teacher slid out from his chair under his desk.  Ami walked up to the desk, turning around every couple steps to keep an eye on the rest of her newly acquired hostages.  When she reached the front she kicked the chair out of her way.
     "Get out here."  Mr. Curtin looked up at her with cold eyes.  "Get out."  He slowly crawled out, shaking so much so that it amazed Ami he hadn't fallen over yet.  He put his hands above his head and looked up at her.  "Pick up the phone." Ami said harshly.  He did as she said.  "Call the office and tell them you have a student with guns and numerous rounds of ammo in your classroom."  His shaking hand fumbled to press the button that connects to the office.
     "Y-yes.  I have a student in my classroom who has two handguns and many rounds of ammo."  Mr. Curtin stammered and shook, acting like a scared child.  "Yes, she has opened fire, and we have four students wounded.  Yes, she has-"
     "Hang up."  Ami pressed the barrel to his right temple.
     "I have to go n-"
     "Hang up."  He slammed the phone back into it's place.  "Now, tell me Mr. Curtin: why do you deserve to live?"
     "I-I..."
     "Or, better yet, tell what you have learned.  Tell me, Mr. Curtin, what a sexual deviant like yourself is doing teaching a high school creative writing class."  Mr. Curtin's eyes widened.  "The truth is, Mr. Curtin, you can't answer me because you are a misfit, a defect, a kink in the system, if you will.  You don't deserve to live."
     "Please, Ami.  I'm sorry for criticizing your story."  Ami chuckled.
     "It's too late for that now, Mr. Curtin, much too late."  And all the students watched with bulging eyes as Ami squeezed the trigger and the bullet ripped through his brain, leaving his body to fall limp on the floor.  All the girls screamed and hid their faces.  "And why do you suppose," Ami said, turning to the rest of the class, "you deserve to live?"
     "Please Ami," a familiar voice sounded again from the side of the room.  "You aren't solving anything!"
     "But I am!  I am ensuring that nobody will ever have to listen to you mock and laugh and snicker at them ever again.  I am our society's insurance policy.  Everybody sit in their seat, now."  All the students rose and cautiously slid behind a desk.  "The lesson in all of this is that sacrifices must be made in order for us to move forward.  You are all old models of this world's inhabitants.  Imperfect models."
     "But you can't just go around killing people!  What did we ever do to you?"  A girl screamed from the middle of the classroom.  Ami pointed the gun at her and began to speak.
     "It's not just what you've done to me, it's what every single one of you do to everybody you happen to come across that you don't like.  It's not enough knowing it kills them to see you walk around, acting perfect, being perfect.  It tears them apart seeing your gorgeous boyfriends and beautiful lefs, your stick-figure frame and shiny hair.  Even after all of that, you still have to rub it in, you still have to make them hurt."  Ami fell silent for a moment and stared at the girl.  She then lowered her hand and turned around.  She slowly walked over to the window and stood for a couple of seconds, then spoke again, not noticing a student moving from the back corner of the classroom where she had previously been seated.
     "Realize it is for the better.  People will see your death as an example, and-" before Ami could finish her sentence she turned just in time to see a boy she recognized as Aaron leap toward her.  Ami struggled for a couple seconds, desperately trying to reach the trigger.  Just as her finger met the trigger, the boy twisted her hand back and she pressed down.  She heard the bang before she realized what had happened.
     And as Aaron backed away, she felt her shirt get damp and looked down to see a thick, red pool of blood spreading from it.  A sudden burst of pain shot up through her spine and she dropped to her knees, clutching her wound.  The entire class sat attentively and watched Ami in what they knew must be her last moments.  And Ami, trying to think of some meaningful parting words and failing, said the most cliche thing she could think of.
     "It is done."



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